


waiting for the dark

by Mathilda_Selem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Best Friends, Canonical Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of War, Siblings, being Aurors is dangerous, there's a lot of near-death situations in their lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathilda_Selem/pseuds/Mathilda_Selem
Summary: Five times Harry kissed Ron and one time Ron kissed him."Now though, as he is bleeding out on the cold stony floor in some stupid cave, the corpse of a dark wizard two steps away from him, he can't help but think about it and he's aching for Harry to be there at the end of his journey.He’s not so dumb to believe they’ll find him on time.He knows he’s dying."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

Harry has kissed him a couple of times in their several decades long friendship. Ron catalogued each kiss but it never was a big deal.  
It was just something Harry did when something really life-changing happened or one of them nearly died...again.  
They had a rather tactile friendship if you took their age and gender into account, but during their rather dangerous quest to save the world from itself they were bound to be close.  
Ron never had any illusions about Harry. Harry was as much a full-blood wizard as he was, even considering his upbringing, and wizards dated and married witches to keep the community alive. There was no chance for anything else so it didn’t do him any good to dwell on any could-have-beens.  
Harry dated witches and Ron chose the only witch that he didn’t feel uncomfortable kissing.  
He had the two kids, so no one could say he hadn’t in the production of the next wizard generation and then, after about ten years of him trying to be a good husband and Hermione trying to balance her career and her family life, they had called it quits.  
Maybe one of the reasons was her sleeping with a fellow scientist because he was not able to force himself to have sex with her any more. She didn’t cheat on him, she told him that she wanted to and he said unfazed “Okay.”  
They tried and it hurt, but it was surprisingly okay.  
Even in the dark times of his divorce Ron never dared to think about kissing Harry.

Now though, as he is bleeding out on the cold stony floor in some stupid cave, the corpse of a dark wizard two steps away from him, he can't help but think about it and he's aching for Harry to be there at the end of his journey.  
He’s not so dumb to believe they’ll find him on time.  
He knows he’s _dying_.  
Ron is supposed to think about his family now. About his children and if they will be okay after he’s gone and he does for a moment but his anaemia-muddled brain only supplies memories of being kissed by Harry and he's way to distracted by his own approaching death to censor his thoughts.

It started with their first Christmas at Hogwarts. Ron had written his mum a very desperate letter a week before the holidays after he’d found out that Harry didn’t expect any gifts for Christmas and his ever-loving Mum had stayed awake to finish another sweater for the little orphan boy on time.  
Ron still remembers with how much disbelief Harry had stared at his presents and how much fun they had that day. At the evening they had sat in the empty dorm room eating Christmas fudge and cookies until Harry who'd been giddy all day had finally calmed down enough to doze off next to Ron on Ron's bed.  
They were eleven and things were uncomplicated and Ron was just happy to have his first real friend with him and played chess against himself until Harry had pulled him on the pillow beside and kissed his cheek and mumbled something about this being the best Christmas ever. 

Ron is not sure he can feel his fingers any more. He feels dizzy and the pain is drumming mind-numbingly in his ears. The floor under his back is wet and the air smells like iron.  
Harry kissed him again two years later, after Ron had pushed himself between Sirius and Harry, and he didn’t even notice the pain of his broken leg that much, though it was difficult to keep his balance. He was scared and desperate and in that moment he didn’t even stop to think that he was thirteen and Sirius was a grown wizard. He just needed to do _something_ to try to keep his friends, keep Harry safe.  
It was then that Harry probably understood that Ron was willing to die for him.  
It scared him.  
Harry had cried back then, his nose pressed against his temple and kissing the place just beside his ear. It early morning before the curfew ended and things had been very confusing what with Ron’s rat being a traitor and his friends travelling through time and Ron just sat there and let it happen while the sun was sending its first rays through the infirmary.

Ron is sure it isn’t normal when you stop feeling your limbs. He’d close his eyes but the dark is even scarier than looking at the walls the waves washed into the stone.  
The next kiss was after Harry was pulled from that dreaded lake. It was cold and their wet clothes were frozen stiff and after Ron weathered the storm of Hermione he was just happy that Harry was alive and he was in a warm bed. He didn’t have the energy left to be surprised when Harry slipped into his bunk. He just pulled him close and Harry buried his face in the crook if his neck and clung to him like he had believed him to be gone for ever.  
It was him who cried, because Harry was alive and him and he found them and he still didn’t know if his family would survive with Percy was still missing and his brothers in the order literally begging to be killed and everything was so overwhelming.  
Harry stroked the back of his neck and kissed that sensitive spot on the neck until he stopped shaking and he didn’t have any tears any more.  
Ron aches to have him here right right now. For Harry to hold him close and tell him things would be okay even though it’s a bloody lie and they both know.

Then Harry died again. And was alive again.  
And Fred was dead and Remus and Lavender and Colin and so many others and he’d kissed Hermione because he needed something alive and breathing and she was his rock while everything else crumbled. That night they all three sat in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room the pain was numbing. It didn’t feel like they won. There was no winner, there was just sadness and death and being alive when, all things considered, it was logical for you to be dead.  
They didn’t cry.  
They just sat there and each of them didn’t know how to support the other. How to stop it from hurting so much.  
Hermione had finally succumbed to a fitful slumber and Ron had held both of them in his arm and they were breathing and warm and Harry’s hand clawed so much in his shoulder it hurt.  
It had been almost early morning and Harry kissed him on the spot between his nose just above the mouth. He apologised but Ron was too exhausted to ask why.

Ron hears the waves echo through the cave and he think it might not be the worst sound to die to. He’d always liked the sea. He always liked the salty wind in his hair and the way wet sand feels in between his toes. It feels like freedom and summer.

Harry kissed him for the last time the night before his wedding.  
The Weasley men and their old dorm mates had organised a stag party with a lot of alcohol and Ron loved his sister enough to care about getting Harry home drunk but not too drunk that a sober-me-kwik wouldn’t get him wedding-ready in the morning. Ron had pushed him in one of the chairs. He kneeled down to help him untie his shoes. Harry swayed from side to side mumbled something he didn’t catch.  
As he looked up to find out what Harry’d wanted the man had yanked him up into a bruising kiss directly on the lips and Ron is feeling almost like passing out remembering it.  
He’d never felt so desired again and he was angry because Harry was marrying his sister for Merlin’s sake.  
He’d pushed himself off and fled from the room.  
The next morning he had pretended it didn’t happen, like he always did. He made sure Harry was showered and sober. He retied his tie and tried to fix his hair and muttered that he’d better make Ginny happy and Harry had smiled nervously and looked like he was about to puke.

There's the sound of apparition echoing against the cave walls, but Ron is too far gone to protect himself.  
Someone swears and there's a hand slapping the sides of his face telling him to stay awake and the blood-loss makes his vision blurry but he’d recognise that jet-black chaos head everywhere and he knows Harry is talking to him but his ears are roaring so loud that he can't decipher what he’s saying.  
Harry’s there.  
It’s too late.  
He can’t feel his limbs and he feels cold and dizzy. Ron whispers Harry’s name as loud as he can and his friend crouches low down closer to his face and it’s _his_ death and he can do with it whatever he wants. He doesn’t need to take anyone’s feeling into consideration. Not Ginny’s, not his Mum’s, not the ones of general public and he gathers the last bit of his strength and lifts his head to touch Harry’s lips with his own. Softly.  
He doesn’t have time to revel in it.  
it’s getting dark and he doesn’t even feel it when his head falls back on the rocky ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Click, click, click is the homey rhythm of metal on metal and every third click there’s a dripping sound. Ron slowly comes to himself and it takes a long time until he there.  
He can feel his fingers that are held by a hand that might be his father’s or one of his older brothers. They are warm and feel like work. Could be George or Charlie there’s sun on his face painting the inside of his lids bright red...Dad never comes home before dusk. Bill and Percy have desk jockey hands, they’re way smoother than this.  
He wasn’t dead. That was sure. Fred would never hold his hand and the rhythmic clicking was unmistakable his mother stress-knitting. His Mum was alive and he could hear her, so he must be alive too.  
It reeked like potions and antiseptics and the rough linen pillow of his pillow smelled mildly like bergamot. He’s at St. Mungo’s.  
It takes him another few minutes of just breathing fighting the drowsiness. He can feel his limbs but his stomach area is numb. Probably some painkiller-charm he reasoned. The last curse Haarmann had sent felt like it had cut him almost in half and he must have lost way to much blood.  
Ron opens his eyes and looked at the ceiling tiles.  
“Why am I alive?”, he muttered and his voice hurt and didn't sound like his own. It was weak and rusty like he hadn’t used it for a long time.

“Good question, lil bro.”, mumbled a voice next to him he knows it’s George. George is holding his hand. His muscles ached as he slowly turned his head to face him. His next-older brother looked like he hadn’t slept in days.  
“I thought I’d die out there.”  
he pressed the hand weakly and lowered his gaze.  
George thought he was dying. George, who’d already lost Fred and would survive losing another sibling. Ron felt like the biggest arse that he’d chosen a job that made an untimely death so _likely_.  
“...’m sorry.” he whispered and felt George get up, narrowly avoided the infusion stand hug him awkwardly.  
“Please don’t do it again.”, his brother rasped against his shoulder and Ron is pretty sure he was crying. Helplessly Ron squeezed his hand. He hated feeling so weak.

George against his shoulder he lifted his eyes to take in the room. On the bedside cabinet there’s a bouquet of odd flowers that are very likely picked by Luna, a few books that are probably brought by Hermione and a delicate golden-red scarf that was probably a present from Lavender. He also saw all sorts of hand-made things and knick-knacks that were brought in by his nephews, siblings and nieces, a hand-painted card that was probably coming from Dean and a pink-and-gold little box that probably held Indian sweets made by Parvati. He felt his lips stretch in a smile and it felt like the first sun after winter.  
He was alive and his people still cared for him.  
“Hey, Mum.”, his smiled and watched as his mother put down her knitting to come to the other side of his bed.  
“Foolish boy.” She half-heartedly slapped him behind the ear and pinched his cheek before softly bumping their heads together.  
“Don’t scare me like that. I’m too old for this.” she said watery and for a moment Ron just felt happy to be alive and not alone.

It was a short peace.

Not even ten minutes later the room was brimming over with people.  
Several healers and nurses were looming above him and handled his body like he was doll, while an older healer stood at the end of his bed and explained things to his Mum, _all_ of his siblings, James, Teddy, Victoire and Neville...mostly the Healer talked with Neville. Which was probably smart considering that his old friend had a lot of experiences with hospital staff and was generally a lot less agitated than Ron’s family.  
It was such a kerfuffle that Ron wished he could pass out on command so he didn’t have to deal with all this chaos. Instead he stared bravely ahead and let the nurses undress him in front of a majority of his family so everyone could have a look at his sliced-up stomach.  
He didn’t dare to look down to the wound.  
Ron hissed in pain when they started to open the bandages and they knocked him out with another painkiller charm.

For the next few days he was floating in and out of consciousness from potion to potion. Someone had closed the curtains in front of the window and he’d lost his sense of time.  
Once he woke up again, his nephew Albus and his best friend Scorpius sat on both sides of his bed. There was a chess board on Ron legs and he tried to stay extra still to not disturb the game as he watched.  
Another time he sensed Hermione sitting on the foot end of his bed reading a book that glowed purple in the dimly lid room. They didn’t talk much more than a few words but it was good to know she was there.  
Only slowly the time immediately after the fight came back to him. He remembered feeling lonely and cold and waiting for his lights to go out why the red life flooded out of him.  
When he closed his eyes he smelled the sea and the iron of his blood and he could recollect thinking about how often he had eluded death and how maybe he was finally out of luck.  
He wanted to kiss Harry. He planned to kiss Harry. But he couldn’t remember how it was to kiss Harry.  
He felt a little cheated by that, but maybe that was the price to pay for his life.

He doesn’t see Harry until until he’s home again.  
Ron still feels a little weak and the muscles of his stomach still cramp randomly causing him to curl into a ball of pain for a few minutes, so he sure isn’t fit for work yet, but he started to annoy the head nurse until they finally gave him the okay to recover at home.  
It’s a Saturday and two days after he was discharged from St. Mungo’s. Ron took his potions and he’s already starting to wind down for the night and if he hadn’t found out yesterday that his potions did weird stuff when combined with alcohol he’d probably have a beer.  
As it is he drinks disgusting unsweetened herbal tea and tries to survive until the next pain wave hit him.

He is just pondering if he should maybe up the potion dose a bit so he’ll get some sleep tonight, when the telltale _crack_ of apparition whips into the dark staircase. A heart beat later someone is forcefully knocking at the apartment door.  
“I’m on the way don’t fucking smash my bloody door.”, he grumbles as he lips to the door as fast as his condition allows it, which is way to slow for both his taste and the one of his late visitor.  
Ron hastily tries to lift the protection charms, but he fumbles and by that time combat boots are banging angrily against the door frame.  
Auror or not he was so nervous that he had difficulties saying the enchantments and opening the magical lock and the bloke on the other side raging like a rabid erumpent is _not making it easier_ but finally he manages to the open the door instantly makes a step backwards.

Harry’s face is white as the wall behind him, but his eyes and cheeks are burning.  
Hey, mate.” Ron tries to soften the blow. His grin gets lost on the way though.  
“I really want to bash your bloody face in.”, snaps Harry and steps way too close.  
“No you don’t, because you’re a good person and you don’t hit innocent people that can’t defend themselves.”  
Harry’s fist is curled into Ron’s collar, it’s rather uncomfortable, especially since Ron feels another wave of cramps approaching and the least thing he wants right now is Harry seeing him in pain.  
“You _deserve_ it though.”, hissed his friend.

“What were you _thinking_ going in there alone?! We had specifically talked about closing in on him _as a team_!”  
Ron feels his ears grow heated. it’s not fair. He tried hard to keep everyone safe. It was his job to make sure that madmen like Haarmann couldn’t hurt anyone any more.  
“He would have escaped, Harry.” he huffs and rips away from Harry’s grasp to walk slowly backwards towards the couch. it’s hard to keep a straight face when his stomach feels like falling apart.  
“I’m not going to bring my team in danger if I can do it cleaner and faster on my own.”  
the other man knows him to well to not see the way he’s wincing under the pain.  
Harry scoffs but he’s quietly helping him to sit down and allows Ron to grip his shoulder and breath through the cramps.

“I’d rather have him escape than you bleed out in some mouldy cave, Ron.”, he muttered when Ron can finally think straight again.  
“Better me than my team or someone innocent.”  
“Shut your bloody mouth, Ron! You’re just as fucking important!”, bellowed Harry and shaking him by the shoulders. His fingers leave probably dark bruises on Ron’s skin. “I want to punch you in the face so fucking much.”  
“Harry...”  
“I mean it. You’re fucking important and I need you to stop being an arse and being so bloody reckless! This is the fourth time just in this fucking year that you got seriously hurt on the job! I’m so fucking done with you sacrificing yourself, you berk!”  
“...’m sorry.”  
“That’s what you always say and you still do it again.” Harry sits down on the couch next to him and as he deeply breathes out Ron can see the anger dissipating.  
“Don’t you...” Harry’s voice sounds exhausted. Ron isn’t sure if his friend had slept more than an hour at the time since he noticed he’d gone missing. “Don’t understand how much we’d miss you if you weren’t there any more? “  
Ron lowers his gaze. He can’t look at the pain in his eyes.  
“Ron...Seeing you like that destroyed me, mate. I thought you were already gone when we found you. I thought you’d left me.”  
He doesn’t know what to say. He could say he is sorry and he is feeling a little guilty for worrying his family and friends, but he also knows he’d do it again if the situation required it.  
He’s an auror. it’s what he loves doing and he’s good as his job, he can’t promise to not get hurt again.  
The job will probably be the death of his and Harry knows that as well as him.  
“...’m sorry.”, he mumbles again, rather late.

Harry nods and gets to his feet. Wordless he disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two bottles of beer.  
When Ron signalled that he can’t drink right now, Harry drinks both as they listen to a pre-game discussion for Tobago vs. Canada on Sunday.  
Harry leans heavily against his side. He’s far from drunk, but Ron feels the exhaustion ooze out out of his friend. He’d love to card his hands through Harry’s mob of hair and watch the way the black strands build a harsh contrast to his pale fingers.  
They’re not like that.  
The radio program ends and they play smooth jazz. Both of them are too tired to turn the radio off.

“Do you remember kissing me?” mutters Harry hoarsely and Ron wants to pull him close and just sleep.  
“I don’t.” and than even quieter “I remember wanting to though.”  
Silence grows between them again as Harry turns and examines the words in his mind and Ron breathes through another wave of pain.  
“Why did you kiss me?”, his friend asks after Ron stopped quaking and grunting and the cramps have turned into a dull ache again.  
Ron closes his eyes and takes another breath. He knew Harry would ask because Ron never did this before. For Harry to kiss him is normal behaviour under the circumstances but not for Ron.  
“I thought I was dying, Harry.”  
“Would you do it again?”  
“No.”  
“Why?”  
“You married my sister, mate.”  
So, there’s that. Harry moves away to other side of the couch and is fiddling with the label from his bottle.  
He doesn’t meet Ron’s eyes even once and after a short while he leaves.  
Ron doesn’t understand why his heart hurts so much.

The next morning he decides to visit his sister. It feels wrong to not talk with her about this. She was married to Harry long enough to know him the best and Ron needs help to fix this.  
It also seems fair because he feels like he’d betrayed his sister and it’s making him feel like slamming his head against a wall.  
Since he’s not cleared for apparition yet he walks to the underground station, He’d maybe used the tram twice in his life and it takes him quite a while but finally he figured things out and it only takes a couple of hours until he arrives at her little house in the suburbs of London.  
It’s her boyfriend Michael that opens the door for him and leads Ron inside.  
They talk about quidditch and Mike makes some tea as they wait for Ginny to finish her article and join them for a late lunch.  
Ron likes Mike. He’s a former quidditch player, like Ginny, and he’s easy to talk to. Simple minded in the way that there’s not much in his life he truly cares about except his sport and his girlfriend.  
Ron also likes that he’s not Harry.  
Having Mike as his brother-in-law is a lot less difficult than when Harry was married to Ginny.

The man disappears to his desk shortly after lunch leaving Ginny alone to chastise her brother for walk from one end of London to the other instead of recovering from his injury like he is supposed to do.  
Ron lifts his chin in defiance, stare against the wall and waits ‘til she’s done. He knows how to deal with Weasley women shouting at him.  
“I kissed Harry.”, he says when she makes a pause to catch her breath.  
“Why?”  
“I thought I was dying anyway.”  
“That’s a stupid reason, Ron.”  
He shrugged and sipped from his tea.

“Are you angry?”, he asks and winces at how small his voice sounds. He couldn’t bare to lose any of his siblings at this time. Especially not Ginny who’d always been the closest to him.

Ginny blinks at him in confusion.  
She takes a big bite of the tea cake that was probably made by James and chews while she’s contemplating her current state of emotion.  
“I don’t think so.”, she finally informs him after flushing the cake down with a lot of tea.  
“He was married to you...and I’m your brother...”  
“Yeah...but now I’m with Michael. Harry and I broke up 5 years ago, Ron...”  
“It’s still weird. I didn’t think it was issue, because I was suppose to be dead and it wouldn’t have mattered...but now I’m alive and I don’t want things to get weird between us.”  
She leans back and musters him.  
“I guess...it’s a little weird.” she agrees and loads her plate with another piece of cake. Ron watches her chopping the slice in pieces with her fork and waits for her to finish her thought.  
“You always had older rights than I, I s’ppose. I knew that you and Hermione always came first when I married him. To be honest if you’d have told him you didn’t want it, he wouldn’t have married me.”  
Ron flushes a little and hastily stuffs his mouth with cake to not say something embarrassing.  
“So, we’re good?”  
Ginny nods and they spend the afternoon reorganising her living room. Him sitting on the couch and holding her accountable and her sorting through her Michael several shelves full of quidditch memorabilia. It was much better than being alone at home. 

Ron is a little giddy when he’s finally cleared for work again.  
When he enters the office he only sees happy faces and he’s hugged by many of his co-workers.  
There’s a box of chocolate frogs at his desk and junior officer Ramón made some home-made jam for him.  
It’s to be back.  
It takes him half a day until he notices that Harry, the head auror, wasn’t there to greet him and all the cases on his desk are simple desk jobs. Things that keep him busy and out of trouble.  
And he tries to stay quiet for a few days but after not seeing his friend for the third day in a row and after being ordered to tidy up the department archive he decides that enough is enough and Harry is in desperate need of a little heart-to-heart talk.

So he stomps into Harry office, slams the door closed so that it rattles in the frame and throws himself in the chair across his friend.  
“You’re not gonna make me clean the fucking archive.”  
“You know that’s insubordination.” grunts Harry pretending to read the file in front of him. He doesn’t. It’s simply impossible to concentrate enough on reading with an a disgruntled Weasley in the room.  
Ron watches him growing more and more fidgety for a while and he just wants to start talking when Harry adds “I can’t send you out unless you fix your attitude, Ron. I’m not letting you get into a situation where you can pretend it’s fine for you to be killed.”  
“I’m not suicidal, Harry...”, Ron says gently and leans forward to prop up is elbows on the tabletop.  
Harry closes his eyes. Ron has rarely seen his friends emotions so openly displayed on his face.  
“Harry...”, he reaches out to touch his arms but his friend leans back, now crossing his arms in front of his chest as well and distinctly not looking into Ron’s eyes.

“Stop avoiding me, Harry.”  
“I’m not.”  
“You are and it’s pissing me off. I did my job. I didn’t try to get hurt on purpose but you know as well as I that sometimes you got to make a choice even if it hurts you in this field.”  
“You didn’t just do your job.”  
Harry sounds so hurt and Ron doesn’t know what to do.  
“You kissed me. That’s not auror protocol, Ron! You kissed me because you thought you’d die anyway. That it wouldn’t matter because you’d be dead. It’s...” Harry breathes out forcefully and it almost sounds like a sob.  
“It’s not fair, Ron! What did you think it would to? Soften the blow? Like the candy you hand out when you tell kids that their Mummy or Daddy has to go to prison?”  
Ron frowns and stares at him for a while. There’s a lot of chaos in his head.  
“Did you think...I was sacrificing myself… that I tried you something you want without the commitment?”He slowly tries to piece things in an easier order for him.  
He flinches a little because the though that him, plain and insignificant Ron Weasley, was someone Harry could want feels like blasphemy.

Harry turns away to the window and starts pacing in the tiny space between wall, filing shelf and desk.  
“What do I have to do to get in your stupid head that I fucking love you?!” he is raking his hair and rubs his face in frustration.  
“You are bloody important to me and want you to be with _me_ and alive. I don’t need any charity. I don’t need you to pretend to feel the fucking same. I don’t need you to kiss me just for you to be take from me. I want you to _be with me_!” 

Ron is on his feet before he plans what to do.  
He has crossed the room in two steps and his hand lands forcefully on the back of his neck to pull Harry head into his shoulders and stop him from pacing. Harry is swearing and struggling against the hold but Ron doesn’t.  
“Seriously, mate...I’m not that selfless.” he mutters against his ear and feels the fight leave Harry’s body.  
“I told you. I kissed you because I wanted to. I thought if I’m going to die anyway I can at least do something I really want before things are over.”  
Harry’s arms circle around his rib cage and pull him close.  
They are going to be alright.  
Not easy.  
But alright.  
“You said you wouldn’t kiss me again.” Harry voice is muffled from being pressed into his auror robe and his breath is damp and warm against the skin below.  
“Yeah. Because you chose Ginny not me.”  
“I didn’t know there was a choice.”  
“I always _wanted_ to kiss you Harry, but things aren’t that easy.”  
“Always?”  
“Yes. Always.”  
“Hows right now?”  
“We’re at work, mate. The archive’s not going to clean itself.”  
And with that he out of the door, like the bloody fucking coward he is and he shuts himself in the room full of files and odd pieces of evidence and tries to stop his heart from beating like crazy and bright order into his chaotic head and he tries to wrap his mind around the new knowledge that Harry fucking Potter really _wants_ him.

It takes them ten minutes until Harry steps into the room and locks the door.  
“Please, Ron.”  
he doesn’t have to ask again.  
The kiss is desperatingly soft and sweet and Ron will always remember the way Harry’s mouth open to welcome his tongue and how perfectly they fit together as he pressed him against the wall next to the door.


End file.
